When the mind refuses to switch off, exhaustion takes a quieter, more dangerous form.
There was a time when burnout wore a visible face—
dark circles, deadlines, frantic schedules, and an overflowing calendar.
But now, a new kind of exhaustion has crept in— not of the body, but of the mind. And it travels silently through endless loops of thought.
I’ve often found myself lying in bed, weary from the day, yet unable to rest—not because of noise outside, but because the mind was still running laps.
What if I had said something differently?
What will happen tomorrow?
Why do I feel unsettled, even when nothing is visibly wrong?
This, I’ve come to realise, is overthinking.
A state of internal hyperactivity that simulates productivity, but delivers paralysis.
A deceptive form of burnout where the mind believes it is helping—
reviewing, analysing, forecasting, fixing — but what it’s really doing is slowly unravelling the peace we were born with.
The tragedy of overthinking is that it disguises itself as diligence.
We think we are being responsible. Careful. Thoughtful. Proactive.
But soon, every decision becomes a burden,
every interaction – a script to be edited,
every emotion – a riddle to be solved.
In the age of information and perpetual access, our thoughts have forgotten how to be quiet. There is no off-switch anymore.
Even in moments of leisure, we’re busy problem-solving imaginary scenarios. Even in conversation, we’re rehearsing what to say next.
The mind has become a workspace without a closing hour.
But here’s a thought I’ve learned to hold close:
Not every thought deserves my attention.
Not every question needs an answer.
Not every possibility must be explored.
There is wisdom in mental minimalism.
In stepping away from the urge to fix everything in our heads and instead, trusting life to unfold—even imperfectly.
Peace doesn’t arrive when all the answers do.
Peace comes when the need for constant answers dissolves.
So now, I try to do something I never learned in school—
I practice mental silence.
I journal to empty the mind.
I walk without podcasts.
I resist the urge to over-analyse a feeling and simply feel it.
And slowly, the mind understands that safety doesn’t come from over-preparation, but from presence.
If you too feel drained despite doing “nothing,”
it might be because your mind is doing everything.
Let it rest.
Let it breathe.
Let it be.
There is healing in simplicity.
And sometimes, the deepest clarity comes not from thinking more—
but from thinking less.
Letters for the Inner Journey by Pushkar
